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Friday, April 26, 2013

Thanks to all the kiddos who helped craft a story at our Story Circle
conducted at the playground at Library Plaza in Marshfield on April
17th in front of Ocean Village Bookstore. Here is the resulting story. Enjoy and keep checking back at www.OceanVillageBookstore.org for info
on the next circle. What is a Story Circle? It is part improvisation,
part storytime. Our resident author weaves a story based on the
contributions of the attendants. This opens children up to their
creative side, enforces positive social skills through participation and
gives them a sense of pride and accomplishment when the final product
is read and they can say, "I helped make that!"

Prince without a Crown

Once
upon a time there was a dog, not your ordinary dog mind you, but a royal
dog. You could tell because he wore a crown; that, and he was confined
to the Queens lawn. That wasn’t a bad thing because her lawn was always
green and manicured. Most of all it was safe.

One morning however the dog, let’s call him
Prince, pranced out of the castle to do his royal business in the back
end of the Queen’s estate, the only place that wasn’t clover green and
lush. It was there, far from the castle, out of eyeshot of all that
could see that an arm sheathed in black leather napped the regal pup. It
wasn’t a difficult task for the dog no more than a handful. Now I know
what you’re thinking, ‘You should have said that Prince was nabbed’ but he is after all a dog and being such I’m pretty sure you would say napped, as in dog-napped not dog-nabbed but I digress…

No one from the castle saw the dark night,
the stormy knight, the Black Napper as he galloped away with the Queen’s
Prince. No one save for me. ‘This shall not stand!’ a inner voice braver than my own hollered. My own fear-filled voice called out towards the castle.

I stammered, “G-g-g-guards? GUARDS! Bad
Knight. Dog napped! Crown nabbed!” Why anyone would listen to the
hollers of a commoner I’ll never know, but yap I did, not as loud as the
voice in my head but far louder than Prince as he disappeared past the
edge of the forest.

The Queen’s guards must have heard the
urgency in my howling for they charged out of the castle in pursuit of
the Black Napper and the royal pooch. They chased them hill and dale, swoosh past the low lying trees, ca-splash through the not-so-shallow stream and ba-doom in and out of the pothole in the middle of the forest road.

The Napper cackled though his black metal helmet. “Moo har, har, I have indeed done it! I have nabbed (he obviously didn’t know the correct word for his nefarious actions either) Yes, nabbed the royal…”

He lifted his arm that cradled the pooch
only to find just the smallest of crowns, not a hair of the dog to be
found under his flapping dark and stormy cape. With the guards closing
in he had to keep retreating into the dark of the forest and tend to the
now un-napped later.

A crownless dog ran down the meadow that
hugged the path to a quant village bordered by waves of heather that
grew so high that all one would see was Prince’s perky tail if one chose
to look. No one did for there was no one in the village to come to the
dog’s rescue. Prince yapped in the village square but not even the echo
of his bark replied. Sitting in the center of the abandoned village he
felt all kinds of alone. First he had been stripped of his regal crown
and now he had no subjects to bark orders at. No stone wall protected
him from the outside world. He looked side to side. Nothing. Prince
looked down preparing to let out a whimper that no one would hear. He
stopped mid-whimp, more of a mew really, when he realized that without
his crown his load had been lightened. Carrying the weight of royalty
with him his whole life Prince never before knew what freedom felt like.
His head felt as light as a balloon. He felt, well, free. He ran back
to the forest path his body cutting through heather like a feather
slices sky.

He came to the edge of the path; to the
left the Queen and hers castle, to the right the Black Napper with the
guards on his tail. Prince sat down to ponder a second time. His
less-heavy head turned from side to side and back again. He panted as he
pondered. We all have crowns be us canine or kid. It was true since the
top of everyone’s head was indeed a crown. Prince scratched at some
fleas which were aplenty in the meadow. If we all have crowns we all
have a royal duty to one another whether one’s crown was encrusted with
jewels or just hair. With that thought Prince stopped his slobbering
panting and swallowed. The little pup knew what he had to do. Rising
slowly and with purpose, his little chest puffed up, his slight
shoulders broad, Prince journeyed toward the dark and stormy knight who
had nabbed his crown (I’m sure of it now, you nap a dog, you nab a crown… whatever.).

His fear had been replaced with freedom,
now freedom was replaced with bravery. Prince’s stride was close to a
strut as the forest seemed to swallow him whole. It was his royal duty
to his people just as it is everyone’s to stand up to that which they
fear.

It was not long before he caught up with
the guards or should I say the guards caught up with him as they
retreated back out of the pitch of the forest. They past Prince and
retreated to the Queen’s castle, a whirlwind of hooves, dust and
desperation.

When the dust cloud cleared something black
against the black of the forest shifted. Prince could hear the gold of
his crown as it clanked against the horse bridle as the Napper neared.
The knight painted bad straddled his matching steed. More darkness
shifted behind him. White, bony arms and legs shuffled and clattered in
the dark. It was the Black Napper’s army of ghouls; let’s call them
hench-zombies for lack of a better name, flanking him on both sides.
They were skeletons actually, not exactly the monster of choice when
confronting a cur. A dog would just assume claim a bone for his own,
gnaw away until bored, then bury the bones back in the ground where they
had arisen. They were poor excuses for zombies now that you think about
it, no bellies at all. Even if they were hungry their munching would be
futile. O.K. they were definitely not zombies, not the best ghoul for
the job but they were definitely hench.

Prince barked as dogs are wont to do, just
like panting and scratching fleas. It wasn’t fear-filled or a
my-dinner-bowl-is-empty yammer, it was a warning. Even with the threat
in his growl what could a dog no larger than a good-sized house cat do
to back up such a bark. Royal or not, he had only one option. He ran…
home. It’s O.K. He didn’t chicken out. If he did he would have ba-cawed.
Prince you see had a plan.

The Dark Napper would have caught the dog
with the tail between his legs in short order if it wasn’t for the
knight’s rattling lackeys who’s all out attack was nothing more than a
shamble. Slow but sure, the bumbling horde followed Prince to the
Queen’s castle. The drawbridge was down awaiting his return. Prince
crossed the bridge as fast as his little legs would carry him. Despite
his urgency the guards were unable to raise the gate before the Black
Napper and his white hench-bones arrived.

Prince barked. It was an order now not a
warning. From behind him a legion of commoners, the good folk of the
village filed out of the castle to confront the evil. The Napper’s
horse reared and the crown fell between Prince and the Dark One. Another
bark and the townspeople pushed to either side. The long shadow of the
queen neared. The Napper’s henchmen cowered, bones chattering against
bones in nervous rhythm. The Napper’s horse turned to run throwing the
knight alongside the crown. His army returned to dust. The Queen’s
shadow neared. Another bark and it was the Dark Napper’s turn to howl.
He lumbered to his feet and ran disappearing in a whirl of ash as he
cleared the bridge. The remnants of the banished evil fell from the sky
like tears of coal.

The Queen ever so gracefully went to the
side of Prince. With her snout she retrieved the crown. A few strikes of
her paw straightened the bedazzled crown on the one we all possess. The
village cheered, “Good Queenie!” The coat of her collie coat around her
neck glistened like ermine, each hair danced on air. The townspeople
applauded their miniscule hero, no longer a mutt but their one true
Prince. From that day forth whenever the townspeople bid one another a
good knight it was in reference to him.

From that day forth everyday was a dog day and a dog day was always a good day in the kingdom where everyone wore a crown.

About the Author

The Literary Bookie is a weekly guide to the best bets in the world of books. Part recommend/part review, these posts are meant to better your odds when you buy your next read. Enjoy your weekly hot sheet and share with others. The Literary Bookie was the former publisher/ reviewer for the pop culture and art culture publication, Cheeseball Magazine and novelist.
Tales by Toon is the meanderings of S.E. Toon, author, bookselling consultant and Creative Writing instructor.